


Love in its Disrepute

by CGotAnAccount



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Happy Endings Only Club, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Kerberos Mission, SHEITH - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24373186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CGotAnAccount/pseuds/CGotAnAccount
Summary: “I'd keep you warm.” Shiro's tone is sweet and sappy, exactly what Keith's come to expect from the golden boy himself.“I know you would,” Keith sighs and settles back, admiring Shiro's moony smile beaming down at him. “You always do, don't you?”“And I always will.”Or, the happily ever after I wanted to see in the world.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 102
Kudos: 106





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been kicking at my brain for a While. Instead of doing on too-long post I decided to make it chaptered :)

It's late when Keith finally stumbles out of the exam hall, drawn and grey tinged and feeling overall like he got hit by a bus – and later still when his barely animated carcass slides itself into his dorm, fully prepared to collapse face first onto the bed in his boots.

The room is blessedly free of any other living thing, and if his luck holds his roommate will have the common sense to cease existing for the next twelve hours.

But he's never been that lucky.

His godforsaken roommate – Mike? Mark?...whatever his name is - crashes into the room not even twenty minutes later, equally as jellied from the exam and looking for liquefaction of a different kind judging by the way he's rummaging through his stash of piss-warm beer.

“You're not going to get trashed tonight.” Keith grunts out, not bothering to roll his face from the pillow. “You're a fucking loud drunk and you're gonna be a dead drunk if you keep me up.”

The crack-hiss of the can is almost smug.

“I don't give one single shit, Keith.” M-something grumbles right back as he slurps down the swill. “I fucking failed that and I'm not gonna cry myself to sleep like some people.”

Rolling enough to crack an eye, Keith sneers at him. “M'not crying.” His eyebrow flashes in challenge as he tucks his face back in the pillow. “Some people didn't fail.”

“Oh, right.” Marty scoffs, fingers crinkling around the can. “I forgot, you're a _prodigy_.” The other bed creaks as his weight drops onto it in a heap. “Sucking the talent right outta Shirogane's dick.”

Keith snorts at that one, the curl of his mouth thankfully hidden in the pillow. “Nah, his cum is as salty as the next guy's.” He lifts his head to wiggle his eyebrows at Manny's wrinkled nose. “If anything, a stomach full of it slows me down.”

“Dude.” His roommate's face is twisted in disgust as he stares down into the beer can like it might erase the memory of this conversation if he drinks enough. “Gross.”

Keith shrugs. “Just sayin'.” He rolls off the bed and grabs the bag he'd tossed unceremoniously in the corner. “Speaking of, I gotta go drink some more prodigy juice if you're gonna be drowning your sorrows in that shit.”

“ _Dude._ ” The groan echoes behind him into the hallway as Keith lets the door slide shut with a grin on his face.

The walk to the officer's quarters isn't particularly long, especially when the officer in question is newly minted and stuck at the ass end by the cadets and the mess hall – still, Keith is practically dragging himself by the time he reaches the scuffed door with a handwritten 'T. Shirogane' construction paper sun stuck to it.

“Shiroooo.” He whines, uncaring of who might hear him. It's not past curfew yet, and the walls are thin enough here that all his neighbors know exactly what kind of relationship they have anyway. “I'm dyinnggg.” He lets his head thunk on the metal, cheek smooshing against the cold surface as his knuckles swing by his waist and rap obnoxiously as he flails his arms. “Let me iiiin.”

The door whooshes open and Keith collapses forward, face colliding with equally hard abs while a pair of arms hook under his armpits.

“Woah!” Shiro grunts, staggering a step back, caught off guard by Keith's dead fish impression. “Easy there, sweetheart.” He attempts to hoist his petulant toddler back onto his feet, only to be met with one hundred and fifty pounds of pathetic meat and a sad face pouting up at him from somewhere around his stomach.

“I'm tired.” Keith groans, lower lip poking out as he wills himself heavier. “Take me to bed.”

Shiro huffs a laugh and bends down until Keith is resting on his own knees, gathering him up closer to his chest for more leverage before hoisting the sack of boy up and wrapping Keith's long legs around his waist.

“Okay, baby.” Shiro sighs into the sweaty hair that tickle his nose as Keith burrows into his collar. “I got you.”

“Mmph.” Keith nudges his head against him in acknowledgment, nuzzling in again as Shiro carries him through the small apartment. “You better.”

That one gets a snort as Shiro buries his smile in the crown of Keith's head.

“Or what, you'll drool on me?”

“M'gonna drool on you anyway,” Keith sniffs, mouthing playfully at the collar of his shirt. “And there's nothing you can do about it.”

“I could sleep on the couch,” Shiro teases, butterflies erupting when Keith clings even tighter to him with a grumble of protest. “Then what would you do?”

“Freeze to death and die alone of a broken heart.”

“Pfttt-”

Shiro squeezes the pathetic lump to his chest, biting his cheek to keep the grin at bay as he settles a knee onto his bed and lowers them down.

Keith doesn't bother to let go, clamping his thighs and pulling Shiro down on top of him in a delightfully heavy press.

“You can't leave me.” He whines, trying to toe his boots off behind Shiro's back without uncrossing his legs. “I'm tired and my test was hard, I thought you loved me.”

“Always, starlight.” Shiro chuckles as he pulls back, ignoring the even louder whine of protest. “Hush, I'm just getting your shoes.”

Keith grumbles even as Shiro twists around to pull them off, barely loosening his koala grip enough for Shiro to reach. “And my socks too? And my pants?”

“Whatever you want,” Shiro hums and takes his time with the laces, caressing the delicate ankles beneath them and pulling the mildly rancid socks off to toss across the room. “Your feet stink.”

“You love them too.” Keith quips back, tapping his toes against Shiro's flank and lifting his hips so they can wriggle his pants off.

“I do.” Shiro presses a kiss to the offending extremity and peels each leg from around his waist before tossing the pants onto the floor. He pauses there, admiring the boy splayed out under him in his open jacket and boxers, fingers dancing on the elastic band at his waist. “These too?”

Keith considers for a moment, then shakes his head, pushing up onto his elbows to take off the stiff uniform, leaving him in his undershirt.

“No, I'll get cold.”

“I'd keep you warm.” Shiro's tone is sweet and sappy, exactly what Keith's come to expect from the golden boy himself.

“I know you would,” Keith sighs and settles back, admiring Shiro's moony smile beaming down at him. “You always do, don't you?”

“And I always will.”

“Sap.”

Shiro only nods in agreement as he presses forward and settles his weight on top of Keith, feathering kisses across his face even as Keith scrunches up his nose. It's moments like these that make his heart flutter up into his throat, choking him with joyful disbelief that he gets to call this man his against all odds.

“Shiro?” Keith whispers against his boyfriend's hair as Shiro busies himself making sure each inch of his jaw gets love. “Did you hear back about the mission yet?”

“Mmm?”

The gentle kisses don't stop, earning a huff of laughter from Keith and a hand tangled in a fluffy forelock as he pulls Shiro up to face him.

“The Kerberos mission,” Keith repeats, eyes twinkling at the pout on Shiro's face when he realizes he can't reach for smooches. “Did you hear anything back about it yet?”

“Ehh,” Shiro hedges, shrugging as well as he can while half collapsed on top of Keith. “Sam still thinks it's a done deal, but you remember that meeting with Sanda... she was pretty adamant.”

“But so was Sam, and he's the lead engineer.”

“Yeah...” Shiro sighs and tucks his head back down into the crook of Keith's neck. “That's what I'm counting on I guess.”

“Well, you'll know for sure soon enough, right?”

Keith lets his fingers scritch into the short hair at his nape as he offers the words, knowing they're a poor balm for Shiro's uncertainty, but also equally certain that the mission will be his. There's no one more qualified in the entire Garrison, no one half as capable of completing such a long mission, not half as skilled, or half as smart - and no one can hold a candle to Shiro's dedication... Keith would know.

If not for that dedication he'd probably be in a facility somewhere after giving his dad a heart attack with his bullshit. But Shiro took one look at the scruffy kid who stole his car and gave him a second chance, sending him home to his dad with a card and a slip requesting permission for admission to one of the top flight schools in the world – Pops barely even needed to glance at it before sighing and reaching for the bottle of spirits on the top shelf along with two glasses.

Keith had learned a lot that day – about kindness, second chances, and the bittersweet sting of letting go. Maybe it hadn't quite made sense when his dad had passed over a knife and a highball with a rueful grin and a gruff confession that he always had been his mother's son, but Keith was beginning to understand that some things just are.

Like him and Shiro.

He hadn't meant to fall into the junior officer's orbit, but there's only so much avoiding that someone can do before the antisocial routine starts to wear thin. Grudging attendence at mandated study sessions turned into something softer, something closer to real friendship... and then something more. Soon enough he had worked up the courage to lace their fingers together over dinner on the rooftop - though Keith was pretty certain he might have to fling himself off it in shame shortly thereafter.

But of course, it was Shiro, so it was okay.

Hand holding had turned into a tentative peck on the cheek, and sitting maybe a little too close for propriety's sake, but Shiro never pushed him away or made him feel like he was anything less than his equal... and for the first time Keith thought that maybe... _maybe_ he understood why his dad still sits outside looking up at the stars, waiting for someone who may never come back.

And maybe, Keith thinks to himself, that his dad was wrong. Maybe he is his father's son, and when Shiro gets this mission he'll be sitting on the rooftop watching the stars, waiting for someone to come home, just like his old man.

He buries his nose in Shiro's hair and breathes in deeply, letting the smell of boy and home wash over him, and deep down he knows.

Maybe life hasn't been the kindest, but this time everything will turn out okay.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up in the officers' quarters are always a bit hit or miss for Keith – on the one hand, it means he got a fantastic night of sleep on a bed far more comfortable than his own, tucked into the chest of the man of his dreams...

On the other, it means Shiro's alarm goes off at an eye-watering five in the morning.

“Shirooooo-” Keith whines into the armpit he's managed to tuck his head into, fists clutched in the gray sheets and face scrunched up like an angry kitten, “-make it stooooop.”

“Sorry baby,” Shiro rumbles beneath him, shifting just enough to flick the buzzer off with the hand that's not curled around Keith's waist, “Better?”

“No.” Keith's frown only smushes deeper, punctuated by the petulant huff that has Shiro burying a helpless smile in his hair. “Stay here.”

“You know I need to get up and do my exercises...”

Keith huffs again, cracking his eyes open in a heartbreakingly pathetic attempt at a glare.

“But you never sleep in.”

Shiro's smile dims just a touch as he taps the fingers of his right arm against Keith's bare skin.

“I know, I'm sorry sweetheart... but it's better for my muscles if I-”

“Shit, I'm sorry-” Keith cuts him off, blearily scrambling up to cup Shiro's face and bump their foreheads together, “I know, I'm tired and forgot and-”

“Easy there spitfire.” Shiro's adoring smile is back in full force as his sleep-mussed boyfriend struggles for coherency. “No harm done... you just lay here and look gorgeous and I'll give you a show, okay?”

The tension in Keith's shoulders melts like butter as he slumps back down onto his side, half propped onto the pillow with a sleepy grin.

“M'kay... push-ups first?”

“You just wanna ogle my butt,” Shiro teases, sliding himself out of bed and onto the floor before obligingly settling into perfect form. “Don't think I'm not onto you.”

“S'a good butt,” Keith yawns, shifting over to get a better view of Shiro's nude form – all rippling muscles and flexed core. “And a good back, and your cute floofy hair, and your adorable ears...” He trails off in a sigh, curling one hand against his cheek as he smiles dreamily at his boyfriend. “You're so pretty.”

Shiro huffs an embarrassed laugh in response, feeling the blush creep all over his face and onto the ears Keith loves so much.

“You're the pretty one,” he grunts as he lowers himself down, pausing to throw a grin up to the beauty in his bed, “I have to do all this so I can keep impressing you.”

“You'll always impress me 'cause I love you.”

The matter of fact statement never fails to make Shiro's heart clench, even when it's coming from someone with haystack hair and morning breath that could kill a small horse. It almost makes him lose track of his reps as he stays there, wobbly armed and lovestruck.

“I love you too, Keith.” He lets go of a shaky exhale and pushes back up, unable to keep the silly grin off his face as Keith curls belly up in his bed like a cat looking for rubs. “Why don't you go back to sleep and I'll wake you when I'm done?”

“Mmrnn,” Keith grumbles, cracking a suspicious eye open. “And you won't do work?”

“No work,” Shiro agrees, lowering himself for another rep. “We can shower together, then get breakfast...”

“Then come back to cuddle?”

The hopeful lilt to his voice is a direct hit.

“Whatever you want,” Shiro breathes, easing through his push-ups with newfound purpose as Keith snuffles his agreement and rolls back over.

The other downside to sleeping over with Shiro, as Keith never seems to remember, is that as perfect as his boyfriend is, he can't cook for shit.

“I thought you said you were just making coffee,” he grumbles, wafting smoke out the little window in the attached kitchenette, “I walked away for like three minutes.”

“I just thought I could get the pan heated for the bacon,” Shiro pouts, thoroughly chastised by the black mark up the side of the wall. “I didn't know the oil was gonna catch when I poured it in...”

“Bacon doesn't even need extra oil.” Keith throws him a look as Shiro dumps the pan full of soggy burned flour into the garbage. “And if nothing else, _never_ try to put an oil fire in the sink again, please.”

“I swear I knew that one...”

“I know, you're a genius.” Keith shuts the window and trudges over to wrap his arms around Shiro's waist. “Sometimes there's too much knowledge up there for the common sense to come out.”

“That's why I've got you.” The kiss Shiro presses into Keith's hair is half an apology and half thanks - well deserved after Keith had caught one whiff of smoke and dashed back into the kitchen in time to yank Shiro back from the sink and dump the whole bag of flour on his flaming pan. “You've got more than enough common sense for the both of us.”

“Hah.” Keith smushes his cheek into Shiro's pecs and beams up at him, accidental blaze forgiven as he nuzzles there. “Tell that to my dad.”

“Anytime, cadet.” Shiro bends down to peck him on the lips. “Just point me at him and I'll give him my standard speech on all your finest virtues.”

“Try to leave out the part about my tight-”

“Keith!” Shiro squawks, cheeks blazing as he yanks himself back to hold a snickering Keith at arms length, “It's bad enough he thinks I'm a cradle robber, do you think I wanna get shot?”

“Don't worry old timer,” Keith laughs, reeling him back in by the drawstrings on his shorts. “I'll protect you from the big scary man... on one condition.”

Shiro squints down at him, wary of the mischief dancing in his boyfriend's eyes.

“What do you want, punk?”

“Take me to breakfast... the cafeteria ladies always save the good stuff for you and I want in.”

“ _Keith,_ ” Shiro gasps, hands flying to clutch his pearls, “are you accusing me of bribing our fine food service engineers?”

“Cut the shit Shirogane.” Keith pokes him in the gut and rises onto his toes. “Today you're getting me the good stuff.”

It shouldn't be surprising to watch Shiro lay it on thick for three women in their mid fifties, but somehow it's even worse than Keith had expected.

“ _This_ is why we had to detour for flowers?” he hisses under his breath, only to be shushed by Shiro as he saunters up to the doorway clearly marked 'employees only' – to be honest, he had thought maybe Shiro was getting the bouquet for him... but no.

Knocking once for posterity, Shiro sweeps into the back room with his million watt smile, arms thrown wide as Keith slinks in behind him.

“Good morning ladies!” His voice booms off the tile as the tittering of old maids immediately fills the room. “I saw these flowers this morning and their beauty made me think of you all.”

“Oooh, Shiro!” One of them claps in delight, pink cheeked and eyes sparkling as she tugs him into a hug. “You are just the sweetest.”

“I'm sorry Edna, that title is already taken by you, Gina, and Beth... I'm afraid I'm unworthy.” Shiro lets himself be mobbed as he plucks individual flowers from the bouquet and hands them out with a flourish before setting the rest in a vase that appears to be there for exactly this purpose. “But I did bring you a new friend today too.”

“Oh ain't he a cutie!” The one who is apparently Gina chirps as she shuffles up to Keith to squints up at him. “We've seen him around... I hear this one's real quick on the games, ain't he?”

“Not nearly as good as Shiro,” Keith demurs, aiming a smile up at his boyfriend's proud look. “He's still the best around.”

“Don't let him fool you,” Shiro laughs, tugging Keith in and wrapping an arm around his shoulder, “Keith's already beaten three of my records... he'll have them all by the time he makes officer.”

The three women ooh and aah appropriately, sharing sly smiles as Shiro beams down at his boyfriend, thumb stroking soft circles.

“Well he's gonna need some meat on his bones then,” Beth decides with a nod, bustling away to pull a plate out from one of the warmers. “Can't have him going hungry in all those tests if he's gonna keep up with you.”

“I was hoping you'd look after him,” Shiro confesses, all secretive as he glances around the room for show, “I have a good feeling about that mission.”

“Oooh honey, you're not the only one!” Edna crows, gray bun bobbing in the hairnet with the force of her nodding, “I heard Sam Holt in the faculty mess the other day giving that pinch-faced shrew _hell_ over that mission – what's her name again?”

“Sanda?” Keith squeaks out, eyes bugging at the casual top-secret gossiping.

“Yeah, that's the one.” Edna shakes her head and mimes spitting on the floor. “She's a real piece of work but he straightened her right out... I'm gonna make that man a roast later.”

“Mmhmmm,” the other two chorus, sharing another round of glances. “Plus that man is a silver _fox_... if his wife wasn't such an angel getting us all set up with that herb garden of hers I'd be tryin' to win over his stomach for sure.”

Keith's eyebrows have officially taken up permanent residence in his hairline as the three cackling ladies whip up another plate and hand them both to Shiro before shooing them toward the door.

“Go on now, get on that breakfast date Mr. Fancy Officer, this boy looks hungry.”

“You're right ladies, of course,” Shiro laughs as one of them swats him with a towel, “I was so eager to see you I've forgotten all my manners.”

“Ooh charmer.” Beth clucks her tongue and holds the door open, waggling her fingers at them with wink for Keith. “Come back anytime now, you hear? A friend of little Shiro's is a friend of ours.”

“Thanks ma'am,” Keith snaps a crisp salute back at them, setting off another round of blushing and titters, “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Ooohhooo, he's cute and polite – good catch kid!”

Then the door swings shut in their faces, muffling the peals of laughter as Shiro grins down at his boyfriend, eyebrows waggling as he holds out the plates.

“So... breakfast on the roof?”

It's a quiet affair, closer to brunch with the midday sun beating down on them – not that Keith would ever think of complaining about a whole morning off together, a nearly impossible feat with Shiro's meeting schedule and his own grueling workload – but they make it work, like they always seem to do.

“You've got syrup on your nose,” Keith sighs fondly, reaching up to wipe a smear that Shiro's somehow managed to get across his face. “And probably some in your hair at this rate.”

“I'm just trying to be as sweet as you are,” Shiro coos back, tipping his face for ease of access as Keith huffs a laugh and follows his swiping thumb with a kiss.

“You're a sap.”

“Always your sap, baby,” Shiro agrees, used to their common refrain by now. He can't help it though, there's just something about the meteor of a boy next to him that turns him into a puddle. “I can't help be distracted sitting next to you.”

“You can't blame everything on me you know,” Keith snorts, chewing through his pancakes with a smirk. “I know you were just as much of a mess before we were together.”

“But I was self contained-” Shiro protests, waving his fork around and subsequently dripping syrup onto his knee, “-now I've got too many of these mushy feelings and those hormones they warn you about in school just trying to squirm their way out.”

“Oh I know a thing or two about those hormones,” Keith snickers, aiming a look up through his lashes and letting it drag down toward the open collar of Shiro's jacket. “Imagine having to walk around next to a living Greek god all day and not push him up against every available surface.”

“Ah-” Shiro squeaks, coloring up to his ears, “-to be fair, you've pushed me up against quite a few.”

Keith nods, all smug grin and appraising eyes.

“And I'll push you up against some more if I have my way.”

Shiro can't resist the giggle that bursts out of him as he drags a sticky hand through his bangs.

“I think we already scarred that one cadet... you know, the one with the big friend who followed you around for a little bit – Larry or something?”

Keith cocks his head.

“Who?”

“Eh,” Shiro shrugs, sheepish at the memory. “Doesn't matter... point is, I think everyone from Iverson down to the janitors knows I'm yours after the last round of marks you left on my neck.”

Keith sniffs and turns back to his bacon, a smile playing at the corner of his lips as he thinks about all the closets they've explored between classes.

“Especially the janitors... not that I remember what you're talking about.”

“We were in the gym, Keith... that one officer you don't like walked in-”

“-the one that flirts with you-”

“-and you _sat on my lap_ while I was using the bench.”

“It was a good place to spot you from?”

Shiro aims a flat look over at his utterly unapologetic boyfriend.

“Do you know how hard it is to hold up a 300lb bar while someone is sucking bruises into your jaw?”

“No,” Keith simpers, winking, “but if you give me a year or two to get buff you can help me find out.”

The fond sigh slips out without Shiro's consent, ruining his attempt at being stern.

“You're adorable as you are, and I love you,” he declares, reaching out to poke Keith in the chest. “And I would never put you at risk even if you do get super buff because I'd be sad if you crushed your pretty face because of me.”

“Pfffftttt, Shiro-” The ding of the pad in Shiro's satchel cuts Keith off, prompting a scowl toward their abandoned pile of boots and bags. “Don't tell me they're calling you in early...”

Shiro glances at the bag, brow furrowed.

“They shouldn't be... Sam said there wouldn't be any more meetings until they made their decision, and anything else can wait.” He trails off as Keith stills at his side, eyes wide at Shiro's nonchalant shrug. “What?”

“Don't what me!” Keith digs an elbow into his side, scrambling across the roof to dig out the pad, thrusting in Shiro's face. “Open it!”

“It's probably just junk-” Shiro laughs as he jerks backward to avoid getting bowled over, ending up with a lap full of Keith as his boyfriend follows him down. “-there's no way they made the decision already-”

“Just open it,” Keith all but growls, pushing the screen against his chest. “I have a good feeling.”

“Heh, fine...” Shiro shakes his head and accepts the pad with a look that makes it clear he's humoring him. “I'll read off what's probably the next flight sim schedule since you need to know that badly...”

He makes a show of swiping the screen open and clears his throat.

“Takashi Shirogane, we are pleased to inform you of your acceptance onto the....” He chokes off, eyes wide as saucers and mouth gaping.

“And what...” Keith snatches his open lapels and shakes them, trying to lean around to see the screen. “Shiro – and what?”

“Oh my god... Keith... I got the mission-” Shiro croaks, looking for all the world like he might faint dead away. “Keith, I'm going to Kerberos!”

“Fuck yes you are!” Keith shouts, fiercely proud as he yanks Shiro into a kiss that's more teeth than anything else before pulling away to shout into the sky. “My fucking boyfriend is going to Kerberos!”

“Keith!” Shiro wheezes, “I'm... I-”

“You're the best fucking pilot in the world is what you are!” Keith cuts across him, clapping his palms to smush Shiro's cheeks. “You are going to make history and I am so fucking proud of you.”

“Keith-” Shiro breathes out, bottom lip wobbling as he pulls the man into a hug and nuzzles into his hair. “I love you.”

“And I love you, Mr. Hotshot Pilot,” Keith mumbles into his chest, still grinning like a lunatic. “I'm gonna love you all the way to the farthest moon and back.”

“Yeah?”

It's a winded question, not quite disbelief – more overwhelmed by the certainty of the supernova in his arms.

“Of course,” Keith pulls back, all wicked grin and sharp lines as he reaches forward to push the jacket off Shiro's shoulders and lay him back on the roof. “Now let me congratulate you properly...”


	3. Chapter 3

The downside to dating most talented pilot of the generation is watching all the attempts at ingratiating and schmoozing from people who probably couldn't land a freighter class with the autopilot on. Not that it bothers Keith that people want to talk to Shiro – hell, he can't exactly blame them when the whole golden boy glow lights up half the campus... it's just...

Fucking annoying.

“So Shirogane, I heard you got a spot on the Kerberos mission.”

Keith can feel his eyelid flutter as the third meathead in a row interrupts their meal. Lunchtimes are together times, and usually most people know to leave well enough alone when Shiro's got his knee tucked between Keith's across one of the tiny tables.

But apparently not today.

“Yeah Chad, pretty neat huh?” Shiro turns to offer the interloper a smile, ever the gentleman. “I'm excited.”

Keith huffs quietly through his mouthful of potatoes, recalling Shiro's mini freak-out on the roof after he'd ridden him within an inch of his life. He can't stop the quirk of a smile when he feels the knock of Shiro's knee in response.

“Yeah... heard it's a ways out.”

The guy can't be a pilot. Keith prays he's not at least... 'a ways out?' Is that the technical distance? The standards for admission must be lower than he realized.

“Yeap. Little over three billion miles, give or take.” Shiro is still smiling, like this mouth breather invading their lunch doesn't bother him at all. It's a skill Keith both envies and loathes... it'd be a lot easier to get alone time if Shiro wasn't so damn nice to everyone...

“Wow.”

The guy just... stands there. Nodding. Even Shiro's smile is starting to get a little wobbly, like he's trying to keep his cheeks from twitching. Keith doesn't bother to keep the smirk off his own face, but at least he can pretend it's the potatoes that he finds funny.

“Yeap...”

It's a standoff. A well-wisher and the fool too polite to dismiss him. Keith sighs to himself – this is why Shiro needs him around.

Clearing his throat, he throws his best smoldering look on Shiro as the poor kind soul turns back with a questioning smile.

“Hey babe, I thought you were going to hurry up with your lunch so we can do some strength training for your zero g adventures.”

He punctuates the sentence with a wink, letting his fingers stroke over the metal of his fork in a manner wholly inappropriate for mealtimes.

The spluttered wheeze that leaks of out his boyfriend's lungs is nearly as satisfying as the way the meathead's face goes from red to white and back before he stutters out an excuse to leave the table.

Shiro doesn't even turn back to see him go.

“Keith?” His eyes stay glued to the fondling of the silverware, ears like beacons for his thoughts. “We... uh... what?”

Keith goes back to his food with a snicker, clamping his knees on either side of Shiro's leg.

“Nobody likes PDA, Shiro.” He shoves a forkful of potatoes into his toothy smirk. “Especially not super straight dudebros who probably don't want to think about their hero fucking the weird kid.”

“You're not the weird kid,” Shiro replies without even thinking, then wrinkles his nose as he pushes his noodles around the plate. “Does that mean we're not going to go uh... practice strength training?”

Keith's laugh sprays back onto his plate before he can cover his mouth, and Shiro pouts.

“Aw, did I get your hopes up baby?” he coos, scooting his hips forward on the plastic bench so he can rub his knee further up Shiro's thigh. “Maybe something else up too?”

“I'm not getting a boner in the cafeteria,” Shiro sniffs, mustering as much of his dignity as he can and scooping up another mouthful. “Especially not in these slacks.”

“Fair enough.” Keith shrugs, eyeing the table like he can see through it to the crotch in question. “I'm not a fan of anyone fantasizing about what's mine anyway.”

“What's yours huh?”

“Yeap.” Keith pops the p as he begins to gather up his trash, aiming a wicked grin back at his boyfriend. “But if they haven't figured it out by now we're just gonna have to make a sex tape...” He stands, then pauses, half turned and looking across the cafeteria in faux thought as Shiro chokes across the table. “Maybe we could play it as a pre-launch movie, just so they don't get any ideas while you're gone.”

Then he saunters away, hips swinging, smirk growing at the clattering of his boyfriend behind him as he tries to get out of the tiny cafeteria tables.

“Keith!”

He doesn't stop – just dumps his tray and strolls to the door, casting a look over his shoulder as he pushes it open, just in time to catch the very dignified scrambling as Shiro follows him like a man enthralled... along with the envious looks from the rest of the occupants of the cafeteria.

Good.

He lets the door swing shut, smile in full bloom as it bangs back open two seconds later and a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist.

“You didn't wait for me,” Shiro pouts into his hair as he tugs Keith back to his chest.

“I knew you'd catch up, hotshot.”

Keith tips his head back into Shiro's chest, tucked squarely under his chin.

It earns him a huff of laughter as Shiro wrinkles his nose and leans down to nuzzle against his cheek.

“Brat.”

The word is painfully fond, the love behind it enough for Keith to bask in, even in the open hallway. It makes him twist around in Shiro's arms and curl his fingers into pressed lapels, pushing up onto his toes to steal a kiss. Shiro opens up to him immediately, hands slipping lower onto Keith's hips even as Keith nips his bottom lip, pulling back enough to whisper against his mouth.

“Wanna get outta here before someone else wants to congratulate you?”

Shiro practically growls in response, fingers digging in, ready to hike Keith's legs around his waist-

Only to be interrupted by an aggrieved sigh behind them.

“Shirogane...”

Keith can hear the way Iverson is most definitely pinching the bridge of his nose and muffles his snicker into Shiro's now stiffened shoulder.

“Can you fraternize with the cadet somewhere less in middle of the entire campus?”

“Yes, sir,” Shiro croaks, voice cracking like the ridiculous kid Iverson thinks they are. “We were just... uh...”

“Please don't tell me what you were planning to do with cadet Kogane.” Keith risks lifting onto his toes to peek over Shiro's shoulder – getting a glimpse of their commanding officer as he drags a hand down his face. “It's bad enough that I have to review the security footage.”

“Ah, right.... sorry, sir.”

Shiro still hasn't turned around, but his glowing ears must be contrite enough to appease even the grumpiest of old men. Iverson sighs again, leveling a thousand yard stare at the far wall.

“We need you for the mission briefing in fifteen.” He drops his gaze to meet Keith's, who brings a hand to salute over Shiro's shoulder. “Next time I'll take your navigator's recommendation and let him be the one to remind you.”

“Yes, sir. On my way.” Shiro eases his grip on Keith, flashing an apologetic smile down at him as he strokes his thumbs over his bulky orange jacket. “I'll see you later then?”

“Yes, sir,” Keith drawls, throwing a much lazier salute at his boyfriend as he steps back, eyeing the puffy shine on Shiro's lower lip with just a touch of smug pride. “Tell Matt I said hi.”

“Will do cadet.” Shiro nods at him, crisp and professional, before turning on his heel to join Iverson. “Ready when you are, sir.”

Keith doesn't miss the way both of them turn to give him one last look – one fond and one exasperated – as they set off down the hall together, leaving him to stuff his hands in his pockets with a grin. He had been hoping to get Shiro back to his dorm for a quickie before the meeting, but it's probably for the best that he didn't show up looking rumpled and moony for his first official mission briefing.

Either way, he's not too upset with the outcome... it gives him that much more time to lounge around in Shiro's bed and finish the painful amount of classwork he has due for tomorrow – after all, as Shiro is quick to remind him every time he wants to slack off, B pilots don't get to fly to Kerberos and beyond.

His takes his time strolling back to the officers' quarters, ignoring the rolled eyes as he takes a left down Shiro's hallway and away from his own dorm. It's extra satisfying to aim a cheesy smile at them as he slaps his palm to the reader on Shiro's door and watches it blink green.

At this point anyone who thinks he's just here for tutoring should probably get their ears checked, neither of them are exactly quiet when getting ground into the mattress... and what a mattress it is, extra plush and easily two feet longer than his own, like heaven when he flops down onto it and scoops his bag off the floor. He knows Shiro doesn't believe him when he says his homework is easier to finish on this bed, but Keith swears it's true. It's not _just_ that he gets to ogle Shiro while he does his calculus, the whole room just oozes competence – right down to the little plush corgi Shiro keeps on his nightstand.

If Keith didn't spend so much time killing himself for his grades he'd swear that just being in proximity to Shiro makes him smarter – something his boyfriend vehemently denies, of course... and his dad nearly laughed himself to death when Keith tried to use that line of reasoning as an excuse to explain away all the time he'd been spending with 'that Shirogane kid.'

Speaking of...

Keith fishes out his phone from the depths of his bag, tossing the rest of it to the floor again as he settles back into Shiro's pillows. Flicking it to the emergency contact, he dials and lets it ring once... twice...

“Hey kid.”

The familiar grunt has a smile creeping across his face before he can help it.

“Hey dad, how's it going?”

The line crackles with a sigh, but he can hear the smile on the other end.

“You know how it is, couple'a coyotes creepin' round the back forty here, diggin' up my compost, the usual. You been good?”

“As gold,” Keith promises, crossing his heart even though his dad isn't there to see him complete their age old ritual... but he knows there's the answering eye roll anyway. “You hear the news?”

“'Bout your boy?” His dad snorts, scuffing his boots on the floor in the background with the creak of a chair. “Half the planet's heard about it by now I reckon.”

“The other half should by the time they wake up, right?” Keith can't resist the poke, savoring every chance to needle his dad like old times. “You like him yet?”

“We'll see.” There's a huff and some clattering, likely the lunch dishes at the station. “I haven't met the cradle robber yet, jury's still out.”

“Daaaaaad,” Keith whines, lip jutting out like he's twelve all over again. “He's not that much older than me, and he's a really good guy.”

“Yeah, yeah... let an old man mourn the loss of his kiddo, arrite?”

“Pfffttt.” Eyes rolling to the ceiling, Keith can just picture the stubborn set of his father's jaw – the one on his own face if he looks hard enough. “You talk like I don't come home once a month for chili night.”

“Once a month after damn near seventeen years of making sure the kid don't die-” his dad barks a laugh, hands slapping audibly to his thighs, “-sure seems like a fair trade, don't it?”

There's hooting in the background that Keith knows are his makeshift pack of uncles – various roughnecks that now haunt the local fire station.

“Tex, is that little Keith then?” someone calls out loud enough to come over the line, “Tell him he owes me a beer for that one he thinks I don't know he swiped last month.”

Keith huffs a laugh, leaning back with his eyes closed as his father dutifully relays the message.

“You can tell Chip I'd rather sip his bedpans than steal his shitty swill.”

“I ain't repeatin' that.” Tex grunts, like he hasn't said far worse himself. “You tell your boy he's coming home for the next chili day or he ain't making it off this rock for his fancy ice mission.”

“No shotguns,” Keith replies, grinning as he burrows his feet into the duvet, knowing he's already won. “And no shovel talk.”

“That's fine, there ain't gonna be nothin' left to bury if he hurts you, won't need a shovel.”

“Love you too dad.”

“Love you kiddo.” The familiar rumble washes over Keith, throwing him back to days scurrying across the desert at his dad's side. “Be good, mind your grades.”

“I will,” Keith promises, smirk creeping into his tone, “I gotta get top of the class to fly the next trip with my sugar daddy, right?”

There's a long crackling sigh.

“I'm hanging up on you, punk.”

“Byedadloveyou-”

“ _Ugh._ Love you too... now git.”

Keith does, hanging up with a laugh as he pulls up his and Shiro's messages – mostly sappy nonsense and emojis in between coordinating lunches together.

_You're coming to the next chili night at my dad's place._

He fires off the text and turns back to his book, working through a few problems before it buzzes in the sheets next to him.

_I'm marking you as my next of kin, please take care of my plants and Mr. Snugglesworth. The hoverbike likes synthetic oil and my good plasticware is under the sink. It was nice knowing you._

“Drama queen,” Keith sighs to himself, grinning like a lunatic as he sends back a thumbs up.

Shiro staggers into the room several hours later with two containers of food from the cafeteria and look of a man who's seen his fate.

“I have never heard more about ice chunks in my life,” he whines, dropping his bag and the containers on the floor as he flops onto Keith's legs. “I don't care about the estimated density. I don't _care_ about potential for melting... I just wanna _fly._ ”

“Aww, poor baby.” Keith coos, scritching his nails through the back of Shiro's hair. “Does the big nerdy space journey have too much science for you?”

“Yes,” Shiro pouts, rolling into the touch. “Matt and Sam wouldn't stop talking about the potential for unexpected biomass and I got a vision of the next year and a half of my life stuck in a jet-propelled closet with them.”

“You could always sneak me on board,” Keith offers, eyebrows dancing, “then I could be the unexpected biomass they're so worried about.”

Shiro wriggles closer, resting his head in Keith's lap and rolling to gaze up at him with the most pathetic puppy eyes.

“Baby you know I'd tuck you in my suitcase in a heartbeat.”

“But they're airtight.” Keith nods, cupping his hand around the back of Shiro's neck and squeezing. “I know sweetheart... it's not that long though.”

“And I might not even get that far if your dad kills me first.”

That one gets a full belly laugh, nearly jostling Shiro right out of his lap.

“He's not gonna kill you, you big baby.” Keith flicks at one of Shiro's adorable ears before splaying a hand between his shoulder blades and heaving him upright. “He just wants to scare you a little... let you know he could if he wanted to.”

“Because that's so much better,” Shiro grumbles, sitting up with another pout.

“It'll be fine,” Keith insists, throwing his legs over the bed and scooping the containers off the desk. “You make me happy, so you're safe... now go grab those hoverbike keys while they're still yours, I heard there's gonna be a meteor shower and wanna have dinner at our spot tonight.”

“Yes dear.”

Keith wrinkles his nose at his boyfriend's back as Shiro fishes the keys from his desk drawer, picking up Keith's haphazardly flung boots on the way to the door.

“Unless you're too tired...”

“Never too tired for you,” Shiro assures him, leaning to press a kiss to the crown of Keith's head as he passes the boots over. “There's nothing I'd rather do than spend an evening with you under the stars.”

Keith doesn't try to hide the smile that blooms across his face, or the way he preens at the words. He tugs on his boots and steals Shiro's jacket off the back of his chair, wrapping it snug around himself the way he knows Shiro can't resist.

“Then I'm all yours, sir.”

The hanger is mostly empty when they stroll through, food tucked into one of Shiro's totes with the happy little cartoon characters on it and fingers twined together. At this point it's not like anyone would be stupid enough to try stopping them anyway, but Keith would prefer not to get caught by more starry-eyed cadets looking to breathe in some of Shiro's greatness... or worse, some pedantic asshole of an officer looking to throw out demerits for whatever bullshit they've decided is the new regulation this week. In fact, it's almost eerily devoid of people for the time of day, their boots echoing off the concrete as they make their way to Shiro's bike and stow their cargo.

“Is it just me, or is it weirdly quiet in here tonight?” Keith mutters into Shiro's shoulder as he climbs on behind and wraps his arms around tight, “Shouldn't there be like... clanging and fixing shit?”

Shiro shrugs under his face, but takes the bike out at a much more subtle rumble than usual.

“Maybe they're at the mixer?”

“...what mixer?”

Keith feels more than hears Shiro's huff of laughter as he cranes his neck to look askance at his hermit of a boyfriend.

“You know, the mixer where they're making a big hoopla about how this is the biggest mission of the century and go us, yada yada...”

Keith blinks at him, head cocked.

“Was that today?”

“Yes baby.”

“And you're not going?”

Shiro shrugs again, turning his attention back to the task at hand as he guides them out of the hangar and into the early evening air.

“I begged off earlier – told Iverson I'd been swarmed all day and wanted to take it easy.”

“Huh.” Keith buries his smile in Shiro's back, squeezing tight around in his middle. “Did Matt go at least?”

That gets a full-bellied bark of laughter as Shiro opens up the throttle.

“Of course Matt went,” Shiro shouts over the engine, “he said he's going to get – and I quote – 'all the tail' with his newfound fame.”

Honestly, Keith's not surprised in the slightest. Hopefully Matt will be enough of a ruckus by himself that no one thinks to ask where the youngest deep space pilot in the history of mankind is during his own party.

Not that anyone would actually be wondering – he's heard the word succubus thrown around with his name a few times – something that he's torn between being oddly proud of and offended that they think Shiro would fall for that.

Either way, he's glad to be out of the loop enough to not feel bad about their stolen evening - and what an evening it is. There's a promise of stars in full force, even with the hazy blur between sunset and twilight Keith can already tell it's going to be gorgeous. The wind has died down just enough to lose the biting edge that's been clinging all day, more of a caress now even as they rocket through the sands to their favorite spot on the cliff's edge. Shiro is as gorgeous as ever in the ruddy glow cast over the canyons as they glide to a halt and slide off the bike, and Keith can't think of a better view than this right here – meteor shower be damned.

“God, you are so pretty.” It comes out probably more reverent than he should be comfortable with, but the way Shiro ducks his head with a silly grin can't make him regret it. “Sweetheart, it's gonna take a hell of a show tonight to make me look away from you.”

“Aww Keith...” Shiro scuffs his toe into the dirt as he digs the food from the bike's storage, blushing to his ears. “You're the pretty one, you know.”

“Nuh-uh.” Keith shakes his head as he plops onto the ground, leaning back against the rock formation right under the scratched 'K + S 4 Ever' they'd left last time. “You're like a mirage out here, I must be dreaming to come up with someone so fine.”

Shiro doesn't bother to respond beyond a strangled whine, scrubbing down his face with one hand as he settles in next to Keith and passes the food over.

Keith counts this one as a victory.

They dig into their dinner in comfortable silence, with only the whistling of the wind through the canyon and a coyote call here or there to break the blanket of nightfall as it comes. It's exactly the kind of night Keith loves – full of memories of his dad taking him up onto the roof to point out the constellations, always telling him his mom was out there too, just waiting until they could be together again... which Keith always took to mean she was dead, but the guy sure did seem certain she'd be walking through the door any day now for that.

Either way, this new take on an old ritual soothes something in him – some wild itch that acts up when he spends too long cooped up inside the steel walls of the barracks. The night only gets better as Shiro sets their containers aside and draws him in close, looping an arm around Keith's waist and pulling him into his lap. The distinct smell of Shiro's body wash and the hint of sweaty boy surround him, letting Keith really relax into the hold and tip his head back into Shiro's shoulder.

“Keep your eyes open, baby,” Shiro murmurs into his ear, nuzzling at Keith's temple. “It should be starting any minute now.”

And as always, the golden boy proves himself to be right as the first streak lights up the sky right on cue. Keith can't stifle his awed inhale, drawing a low chuckle and a squeeze of strong arms from Shiro.

“Someday you're gonna be up there with them.”

Keith feels his heart clench in a strange mix of pride and longing as Shiro's words ghost over him.

“You're gonna be up there pretty soon... then I'll have one more star to watch for.”

“I'll have to do my best to make all your dreams come true then.”

Shiro's words are far too earnest as he strokes Keith's fingers – far too close to a promise of something that Keith wants to throw himself down and beg for... not that Shiro would ever make him beg for love.

“You already have.”

It's easy for Keith to twist in Shiro's lap and throw his arms around broad shoulders, drawing him in for a kiss that steals the breath from his lungs – even easier to drag one hand up through his hair, scratching at his nape as the other drags down Shiro's chest to feel his heartbeat thundering away.

“Shiro...”

He breathes his name like a benediction, the object of his affection clutching tight to his waist as Keith presses kisses to eyelashes and cheeks, working his way down until his lips brush the bob of a harsh swallow.

“I want to see you like this... out here.”

Shiro's hands clamp tight, head pulling back just enough to search Keith's face.

“Are you sure baby? It's awfully sandy.”

“I'll risk a little chafing for you,” Keith teases, rolling his hips forward nice and slow as he trails his palm down to the button on his boyfriend's pants. “I wanna see the stars in your eyes when you come undone for me.”

“Keith!” Shiro squeaks, blush visible even in the purple twilight – not that it stops him from lifting his hips and letting Keith unzip his fly to shimmy the slacks down. “Do we even have-”

“Of course we do, boyscout.” Keith clicks his tongue, leaning back to fish a little packet from the pocket of his jacket. “You think I take you anywhere without lube when you've got a face like that?”

“Oh my god.”

It's a muffled groan, the face in question currently covered by Shiro's broad palms as he peeks through his fingers at the boy between his legs. It only serves to egg Keith on, his boyfriend too cute to resist as he works on the laces of Shiro's boots in an effort to divest him of his pants entirely.

“Calling me god already, sweetheart?” Keith grins as he leans down to press a kiss onto Shiro's nose through his knuckles. “I'm not even inside you yet.”

A shuddering exhale through a smile is all Keith gets for his teasing, prompting him to curl his fingers into the divot behind Shiro's knee and tickle until his boyfriend jerks in his grasp, eyes wide and hands flying to Keith's shoulders.

“Brat!”

“Yours,” Keith agrees, shucking his jacket and slipping it under Shiro's lifted hips, tucking it up around his waist as a makeshift barrier from the sand. Shiro hums his thanks as Keith lowers him back down gently, moving to rip open the packet of lube and slick up his fingers with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “Are you ready for your pre-flight check, sir?”

Shiro's braying laugh echoes off the rock face around them, sinking down into the canyon as he throws an arm over his face and giggles into it.

“I dunno cadet,” he snickers, wiggling his hips with a grin. “I think you should probably check the oil.”

“Ah, yes.” Keith nods sagely, easing a finger inside, “Let me get my dipstick ready...”

Shiro breaks into another wave of giggles, noticeably breathier than the last as Keith adds another finger and works him open.

“Make sure you start the engine cadet,” he says, face torn between mischief and pleasure. “Can't know if you need to fill it up if it's not running.”

“Oh, I'm filling it up either way.”

He lets his fingers slide out, until it's just his thumb tugging on Shiro's rim. His clean hand works his own fly down, shimmying out of his pants just enough to keep Shiro from the worst of his zipper – then he's slicking himself up with the last of the lube and settling back between Shiro's thighs.

“Ready, Lieutenant?”

“All systems go, Cadet.”

Then he's pressing in, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he rolls his hips into Shiro's heat, unwilling to look away from the way Shiro's head tosses on a gasp. He's beautiful underneath the stars, cast in silvery blues and purples as the sporadic cloud cover breaks and spills over Shiro's flushed cheeks. It nearly stops Keith dead – distracted even from the tight clutch of his body as Shiro rolls his hips down in a bid for more friction.

“Baby-”

Keith hushes him, grinding in flush so he can lean up to press a kiss to Shiro's jaw. He keeps one arm looped under Shiro's waist, keeping him from the worst of the sand, careful even the barrier down below. The other slips under Shiro's shirt, fingertips ghosting over defined abs that flex as Keith's own burn from the steady way he works himself into his lover's body.

Of course, the ab workout is worth it when Shiro starts to spill little sighs and gasps, his broad hands finding Keith's thighs and clenching tight into the material there. This is Keith's favorite part, when Shiro goes sweet and pliant and forgets their teasing in the face of his own pleasure. There's no one more deserving of love in this universe or the next – and Keith intends to prove it to him with every drag inside and whispered adoration.

“So damn pretty,” he grunts, arm straining to hold up Shiro's bulk as the bigger man squirms under him, hips hitching to meet Keith's despite his lack of leverage. “Can't believe you're all mine...”

“Always,” Shiro groans back, panting now as Keith zeroes in on where he needs it the most, “Always yours-”

The words sooth some itch inside him as Keith digs his fingers into Shiro's side, dampening the ever-present urge to dig his teeth into Shiro until the whole world knows they belong to each other. For now he'll settle for the inky proof that's sure to be left over from his handful of heaven. He sighs, folding over Shiro to press a kiss against his heart, murmuring his love into the swell of Shiro's pecs before taking a nipple between his teeth and flicking his tongue.

It's enough to have his boyfriend arching with a gasp, eyes rolling back as he shudders and clamps down around Keith. He's gorgeous, all flushed and heaving as his thighs squeeze tight, milking Keith for all he's worth as he tries desperately to work through the ecstasy... but he's only a man, and the warbling moan from bitten-red lips has him spilling deep with a whimper of his own.

And of course, that's when his muscles decide to give out – turning to jelly and sending them crashing down onto the jacket in a sticky, sweaty heap.

Shiro grunts, but bears Keith's sudden weight without complaint, legs sprawling to either side of his hips as he steadies his boyfriend with hand on his spine.

“You're gonna get cum on your pants,” he warns, out of breath and playful as Keith huffs into his neck.

“Probably already too late.” Keith shrugs as best he can without unwrapping his death grip, nuzzling into where Shiro smells like sweat and sex and _him._ “The knees are gonna be a lost cause.”

“The whole thing is gonna be a lost cause in a minute, I'm leaking.”

Keith knows his face is far too smug as he pulls back to admire his handiwork, cheerfully ignoring Shiro's snort as he drags a thumb through the spill between them.

“Are you having fun?” Shiro rumbles below him, arching an eyebrow as he clenches down, more heat seeping out. “I could use a tissue or two.”

“Mhmm.” Keith gives his cheek a parting squeeze before shuffling over to the discarded food bag, returning with a handful of napkins as he wipes himself clean. “They're kinda scratchy...”

“I've used worse,” Shiro assures him, making grabby hands at the pile and wiggling his hips further onto the jacket. “It's better than a giant wet spot on my ass when we get back either way.”

Keith hums in response, noncommittal and certainly not opposed to the idea of such an explicit claim. Shiro throws him a look as Keith helps wipe him clean, like he knows exactly what his boyfriend is thinking behind that innocent face.

“You're incorrigible.”

“You're beautiful,” Keith fires back with his most charming grin as he shakes the sand out of Shiro's discarded underwear, “and I love you.”

“I think I win that one this time, I risked sand in my asshole for you.”

“I'd still eat it.”

“Ridiculous,” Shiro chuckles, shimmying up his boxers and reaching for his proffered slacks. “I bet you wouldn't complain if it was filled with teeth.”

“ _Augh.”_ Keith rears back, snatching the soiled jacket from the ground with a scandalized look. “Shiro... _no...._ I'd just bottom.”

That gets his boyfriend barking a laugh into the night sky as he stumbles into his pants, grin bright as starlight. It's the best kind of look on him, loose and relaxed, just a kid fooling around in the desert – not a care in the world. Keith would give anything to keep him like this all the time.

“Alright Spitfire.” Shiro pushes himself off the rock face, still grinning as he slings an arm around Keith's shoulder. “I think we got enough totally scientific stargazing done for tonight... you ready to head back?”

“Only if I get to be big spoon.”

“The biggest,” Shiro promises, hand to his heart as he steers them to the bike. “I'll never be spooned harder, I'm sure.”

“Damn straight,” Keith agrees, hopping up onto the bike and sliding back, “and we're starting right now, I wanna grope your magnificent chest on the way back so you're driving.”

“What a hardship.”

The night sings with crickets as they wind their way back through the canyons and Keith enjoys every moment of it, cheek pressed into Shiro's back and hands full as the stars streak by overhead.

He closes his eyes and commits the smell of sweat and love and the desert night to memory. It's moments like these he's going to miss when Shiro's away.


	4. Chapter 4

Chili night has been something of a sacred ritual in their household for as long as Keith can remember, back when he was barely big enough to hold the spoon in one chubby fist as his dad held him safely over the stove to let him stir in the beans. Dad always said that chili was his mom's favorite dish, the hotter the better until it damn near burned his nose hairs off. Apparently Keith inherited his mother's palate.

Every now and again if he's feeling generous he'll share the big tupperware container his dad sends back with him – more chili than any one human really should eat, but somehow it's always gone by the time Shiro checks in on him for dinner the next night. It's usually better that way anyway, the few times Keith has saved a bowl for him he's spent the next few hours in and out of the restroom.

He's beginning to think that his dad just knows on those batches and makes them extra spicy to fuck with Shiro.

Either way, Keith hasn't missed a chili night in his life – not even during the two week wilderness survival training when his dad had left a container of it sealed in a cave in the middle of the desert – he's not about to start now because Shiro can't get his nerves under control.

“Aren't you supposed to be piloting the farthest manned mission in history soon?” Keith grumbles from the bed, arms crossed as he watches Shiro pace back and forth, stopping occasionally to fix and reruffle his floof to look 'presentable'... whatever that means. “You're gonna catch even more hell if we're late you know.”

The frantic giggle Shiro lets out would be funny if it wasn't so pathetic.

“Do you think this shirt or the blue one says 'I respect and cherish your son' more?”

Shiro's hands are shaking as they smooth down the front of the button-down, eyes a little more than manic when he catches Keith's.

“Shiro, chill out.” Keith hauls himself off the bed and crosses the room to plant his hands on his boyfriends shoulders, easing the tremors he can feel there. “It's gonna be fine. You're gonna spill chili on it either way, just stick with the black.”

The shoulders slump, prompting Keith to bring his hands up to cup Shiro's jaw, stepping in close until his big idiot has no choice but to embrace him.

“It's gonna be fine.”

“How do you know that?” Shiro whines, gnawing on his lip until Keith pulls it from his teeth with his thumb. “What if he forbids me from seeing you?”

The snort that Keith lets out nearly knocks their heads together, hands smooshing Shiro's cheeks until his lips go fishy.

“That's not how that works, Shiro.” Keith smiles at him, indulgent as he wiggles Shiro's cheeks around at will. “He can't forbid me from doing anything, and he's not going to want to when he sees what a great guy you are.”

“You're not eighteen,” Shiro tries to point out through Keith's ministrations, earning himself nothing but a scowl.

“So what?” The hands squeeze tighter, drawing together with the knit of Keith's eyebrows. “Are you gonna start treating me like a kid too? You sure didn't care last night-”

“No! No... I just meant...” Shiro hedges, gaze darting around for a good answer that doesn't exist. “I mean... what if he pulls you out?”

The hands fall away from his cheeks as Keith sighs, leaning into him and wrapping his arms around Shiro's waist.

“He's not going to take my dream away from me because my boyfriend is a big ol' idiot that doesn't know his own worth.” The words are punctuated with a thunk of his forehead into Shiro's pecs before Keith draws back enough to squint up at him. “Besides, if he was gonna go that route he woulda done it when I told him I was dating an officer.”

“You told him I'm an officer?” Shiro squeaks with renewed alarm, apparently already mentally allocating his belonging to his friends. “I'm a dead man walking... he's gonna think I'm such a creep.”

“Shiro,” Keith grunts, banging his head into Shiro's chest like the brick wall it is. “Everyone in the entire world knows you're an officer. You made the news as the youngest ever... it's _fine._ ”

“Youngest ever to be buried in someone's backyard.”

“ _Shiro._ ”

The first real hint of annoyance creeps into Keith's tone as he pushes away from his boyfriend's chest, crossing his arms as Shiro slumps in on himself.

“Sorry.”

“Don't be sorry,” Keith sighs with a shake of his head, “Just... relax, alright? Trust me... trust us.”

“I do!” Shiro's head snaps up, all puppy eyes and pout at the insinuation. “I trust us more than anything... it's just... what if he hates me?”

“Then he hates you.” Keith shrugs, like that wouldn't be the death knell for their relationship. “But he's not going to. He's going to love you because I love you, and he loves whoever makes me happy... that's you.”

Shiro blows out a wobbly breath, stepping forward to twine his fingers with Keith's.

“You're right. I'm sorry I'm being all weird, I'm just nervous.”

“It's okay sweetheart, I would be too.” Keith stretches to his toes to touch their foreheads together, tipping his chin up to nuzzle his nose along Shiro's, “Someday I'll be meeting your family too you know.”

“Yeah but you'll be an officer by then,” he pokes Keith in the side, stealing a kiss when his boyfriend squawks in protest, “younger even than me.”

Keith pulls back again, frowning. “They're not coming to the launch then?”

“Eh, it's a long trip for them.” Shiro shrugs, not particularly concerned as he plays with Keith's fingers. “And I wouldn't be able to see them for more than the hug and cry room anyway... and I was kinda planning on spending that hugging and crying with you.”

“You big sap.” Keith folds himself into Shiro again, face scrunched in an effort to keep his squirmy feelings inside. “No crying, just hugging.”

“You're right,” Shiro sighs, tucking his chin over Keith's head. “I'll save my crying for when your dad is breaking my – _ow,_ kidding!”

“You better be,” Keith grumbles, removing his knuckle from Shiro's ribs with a scowl. “Now get your shoes and let's go, I don't wanna miss the cheesening.”

Shiro perks up at that, like a dog hearing his favorite word.

“The cheesening?”

Keith grins, all wiggling eyebrows as he saunters to the door and slides his own boots on.

“You'll see.”

What Shiro sees – as he clutches Keith's waist in a vice grip – is a mountain of a man and two of his big friends waiting on the porch of a little cabin as Keith steers their hoverbike up the dusty road.

“Is chili night usually a group affair?” His voice wobbles a little, sparking a rush of affection in Keith as his big scary boyfriend quivers like a kitten behind him.

“Yeap.” Keith cuts the engine and lets the bike coast the last few feet, sending it into a sideways skid that kicks a wall of sand at the house.

“Keith!” Shiro squawks behind him, burying his helmet clad head into Keith's shoulder blades, “What happened to a good impression!”

Keith snorts and fumbles with the latches on his helmet with one hand, prying Shiro's arms from his waist with the other.

“There's the punk!” One of the burly men calls out, raising a beer bottle in a toast. “I'd say he's growing like a weed, but... well... maybe one from the desert.”

“Hardy har, Chip.” Keith calls back, sliding off the bike and slinging his helmet over the handlebars before turning to offer Shiro a hand down. “Still got jokes.”

“For days, twerp.” Chip blows him a kiss, elbowing the guy next to him. “We've been saving all our best ones just for you and your man-friend here.”

Shiro flushes up to his ears as he takes Keith's hand and hops down, peeling off his own helmet with the other – painfully aware of the ridiculous helmet hair he must have.

“Like you and Dale can talk.” Keith shakes his head and hooks Shiro's elbow with his own, practically dragging him up to the porch steps. “You two are gayer than the day is long.”

“Nah, he's longer than the day is gay.” Dale winks at him and nudges Chip back. “You got good taste though.”

“That's up for debate.” Keith's dad's voice is a rumble as he stands from the porch swing, stretching to a towering height at the top of the steps.

Keith scoffs, eyes rolling as he slides his arm from Shiro's and trots up to give his dad a hug. “Be nice, I like him.”

“Yeah Tex, be nice.” Chip mimics in falsetto, flapping a hand at them with a braying laugh. “Can't kill the kid's first boyfriend... people'll get suspicious.”

“H-hello, Mr. Tex sir.” Shiro waves with a weak smile, shuffling up behind Keith as Tex glowers down at him. “Thank you for inviting me to your chili night.”

“So you're the one stealin' my boy away all the time.”

“Daaaaad,” Keith whines, shoving ineffectually at his father's chest with a huff before reaching back to snag Shiro's hand. “You promised.”

“Did no such thing,” Tex grumbles, but he steps to the side, waving them into the depths of the little house.

“Sorry sir,” Shiro coughs out as Keith tugs him up the steps, dragging his heels enough to offer the behemoth a hand to shake. “He's wonderful company.”

Keith cringes as Shiro's hand promptly gets crushed, though the poor man does an admirable job of hiding it – only the twitch of his eye giving it away. But Tex laughs as he rattles Shiro's bones, tossing a look at his boy.

“You don't gotta lie to me, my kid's half feral.”

“The best kind,” Shiro insists, painfully earnest even as he shakes out his aching hand when Tex lets go. “I'd love him no matter what.”

Keith promptly colors up to his ears as Chip and Dale start hooting, trading elbows as Shiro slaps his metaphorical cards on the table with gusto.

“Well now,” Tex drawls, shaking his head like he might regret this already, “those are some big words... why don't we see how you handle the chili.”

Keith tugs Shiro's hand with a groan, this time hard enough to get him stumbling over the threshold and into the cooler interior of his childhood home. It's a modest little thing, not much more room than they needed for a guy and his rambunctious little boy. The far wall is, of course, lined with photos of him all gap toothed and smiling in various locations, sometimes perched on his dad's broad shoulders or holding his hand at the zoo. The older years are a little more scarce as Keith grew camera shy – though his first mugshot is still proudly hung next to his dad's, and the shot of him covered in red dust after his first illegal racing win sits on the mantle. Shiro makes a bee-line to the wall, eyes sparkling and smile stretched so wide it looks painful as he reaches up to traces a tiny Keith smiling with a hippo plushie.

“Oh my god, baby... you're so _cute._ ”

“Ain't he?” Tex laughs behind him, clapping Keith on the back with a grin as his boy scowls. “He was missing his two front teeth for a solid year... I started to think they'd never come in.”

“Don't forget when his baby teeth came in like a vampire,” Dale chimes in as he and Chip shuffle inside, letting the screen door clang shut behind them. “He was a bitey little thing.”

“Mhmm, takes after his momma.” Tex ruffles Keith's hair, ignoring the crossed arms and general demeanor of an angry cat. “Lucky for him.”

“Yeah, yeah...” Keith huffs, slinking up to Shiro and tucking under his arm in an effort to avoid further ribbing, “She musta been the short one.”

“Like hell.” Tex snorts, shaking his head and strolling back into the kitchen where pots simmer merrily on the stove. “She's taller than I am, you're just a runt.”

“I think you're the perfect size,” Shiro soothes, feeling Keith's hackles rise, “just right for forehead smooches.”

He plants one there to prove his point, undeterred by the chorus of gagging coming from the grown men in the house. Keith wrinkles his nose but presses into the affection, wrapping his arms around Shiro's waist and tilting up to kiss his chin.

“Y'all are gonna ruin my dinner,” Chip grunts, dragging a stool out from the around the table.

Mercifully, Tex only shakes his head and lifts the lid on a pot, taking in a deep whiff of the contents before repeating the process on the other three.

“Alright boys... I think we're ready for the cheesening.”

Shiro perks instantly, nearly starry-eyed at the mention of his guilty pleasure.

“What exactly is the cheesening?”

Keith's dad smiles for the first time, hefting a block of cheese the size of his forearm and a grater.

“If you can see the chili when we're done, you're doin' it wrong.”

Then he sets to grating, scraping mountains of cheese into the simmering pots until the chili itself is entirely hidden by a blanket of melted heaven. Keith has to stifle a laugh as his boyfriend sways forward, practically drooling as he cranes his neck to see better.

“Don't worry sweetheart, there's enough for everyone.”

Shiro blushes, dropping off his tiptoes as he aims a sheepish grin back at Keith, letting himself be tugged onto another of the stools where giant bowls await them.

“Made an extra pot,” Tex agrees, hefting one off the stove to plant in the middle of the table – right onto the scorched marks in the wood from this very tradition. “If Keith saves you any there might even be some to take back with you.”

Shiro can barely bobble his thanks, eyes wide and starry as he leans in his seat, spoon clutched in his fist and salivating. “That's so much cheese...” His voice is the epitome of childlike glee, bringing an endeared smile to Keith's face as he reaches over to ladle chili into his boyfriend's bowl.

Tex leans a hip against the table, arms crossed as his company begins to portion out the fruits of his day of labor.

“Well go on boy, try a bite.”

Shiro does, digging his spoon into the thick layer of gooey cheese on top, practically whimpering as it stretches on the way back up. Keith holds his breath as the spoon slips between his boyfriend's lips, barely repressing a shiver at the way Shiro tips his head back and _moans_ as he gets the first taste.

“Oh my god-” The garbled mouthful is reverent as Shiro goes back for a second bite, aiming a starstruck gaze up at the very burly and very smug man still hovering over the table. “-this is the best thing I've ever tasted in my life.”

“Aww, hell kid.” Tex laughs, finally plopping down onto a stool across the table. “Flattery ain't gonna get you everywhere, but it's a start.”

Shiro beams at him, a disgusting cheesy thing that has Chip and Dale cracking up as they dig into their own portions.

“You heard the boy, Squirt-” Chip reaches over to nudge Keith with a knuckle. “You've been knocked down a peg.”

“He's still got 'best meat' though,” Dale chimes in, all wiggling eyebrows even as Tex growls and kicks him under the table.

“Don't be talking about my boy ya old creep.”

“Oh my god, Dad-”

“Well we know he likes older men-”

Tex kicks harder this time, enough to draw a yelp and a hoot of laughter. Shiro can only duck his head, shoulders hunching in an effort to make himself invisible while he hoovers up the chili like it's his last meal.

“I hate you guys,” Keith grumbles, stabbing into his own bowl with a pout. “This is why I've been hiding him, so you nutjobs don't run him off...”

Shiro risks scooting his stool closer to Keith's, bumping their knees together with a furtive glance.

“They can't run me off, baby-” he risks a peek at Tex, who happens to be watching him with a raised eyebrow as he stirs his own bowl, “-they'd have to bury me out back first.”

Keith knocks his knee back, reaching out to tangle their pinkies together as Shiro obligingly switches the spoon to his left hand.

“I know... but it'd be nice if _some people_ could mind their own business.”

He levels a truly icy look at his dad's friends – the makeshift uncles that have prodded and teased him every step of his life. Unfortunately they remain utterly unscathed, wiggling their fingers in a ridiculous wave across the table.

“Arrite, that's enough now.” Tex cuts across the conversation before it can devolve any further, resting his elbows on the table as he turns to look at Shiro. “So kid, I hear you're on that ice rock mission... what's that about?”

Keith shoots his dad a grateful look, fully aware that Tex knows the ins and outs of the Garrison's goings-on almost as soon as he does. As intended, Shiro brightens, eagerly chattering away as he fields questions about specs, parameters, experience, sim runs, and whatever else Tex can plumb from the depths of him. Chip and Dale even join in, shifting the conversation to hoverbikes and shoptalk that Shiro navigates equally nimbly, leaving Keith to plant his elbows on the table with a dreamy smile. Call it a competency kink, but he sure does love watching Shiro be aggressively capable in almost every scenario... kitchen related activities aside. And once he gets going the full might of Shiro's natural charm wins over even the toughest audiences, enthralling the other three men with stories of skidding Mars re-entry, cliff dives, and theoretical propulsion systems like he's talking about the weather. It only reinforces why he loves this man with his whole heart, and judging by the vaguely impressed look on his dad's face he's not the only one who wants a Shirogane in the family.

The afternoon winds down like that, sun starting to cast long shadows through the curtains as the pots slowly empty and the swapped tall-tales grow in height and number. By five o'clock they're all laughing together like old friends, conversation only petering out as Tex cranes his neck to check the old clock in the living room.

“Aw damn, kid... looks like it's getting 'bout that time.” It's almost too cute how the other three men at the table turn to pout at the clock in unison, leaving Keith to share an amused eyebrow with his father. “Now don't fret, you're all welcome back anytime you can get away.”

“Yeah, don't be a stranger.” Chip scoots his stool back and gathers the bowls, heading to sink to deposit them. “Now that we know you're not a total creep that we gotta murder, I kinda like ya.”

“Thank you?” Shiro stands as well, starting over to help with the dishes before Tex catches him by the shoulder.

“Guests don't clean,” he grunts, squeezing once before clapping him on the back. “Besides, I reckon I owe you for taking care of my boy... see that it stays that way.”

“Yes sir.” Shiro's nod is comically serious, face and back drawn straighter than any muster could achieve. “He means... everything to me.”

“Well that makes two of us.” Tex nods back, casting a look over at where Keith is hiding his face in his hands. “The boy's going places.”

“Daaaaad,” Keith whines, getting to his feet and shuffling over to press his flaming cheeks against Shiro's arm. “Don't embarrass me.”

“Can't help it kiddo.” His dad reaches out to ruffle his hair, not bothering to hide his grin as Keith huffs like a put-out kitten. “You're my favorite son, I gotta.”

“He didn't even break out the home movies either,” Dale points out, ever helpful as he wiggles his eyebrows at Shiro, “You shoulda seen this little miscreant on his bike with his tiny cape...”

“Don't you two have somewhere to be?” Keith squawks, rounding on him with a pout that makes him look years younger than he is.

“Arrow through my heart buddy... here I thought you missed us.”

“Like a stubbed toe.”

Chip guffaws into the sink, craning his neck to grin at his husband.

“Arrite, I think we've heckled the kid enough... don't want to run him off completely.”

“Yes dear.” Dale shuffles over to pull Keith into rib-crushing hug, ruffling his hair like his father had before punching him on the shoulder. “Alright twerp, be good.”

“I'm always good,” Keith grumbles, nose wrinkling even as he slinks over to Chip to hug him too. “Ask Shiro.”

“The fool's in love,” Tex grunts, shaking his head with a laugh. “I bet he'd hide your bodies.”

Shiro colors up to his ears, but shrugs without a word in his own defense, instead opting to offer his hand in parting.

“It was nice to meet you, sir.”

“You too, kid.” Tex grips his hand and yanks him forward, clapping him on the back before shoving him off to Dale. “Don't be gone too long.”

“Yeah, we don't wanna hear Keith waxing poetic about you while you're up in space.”

“Whereforart thou, beefcake-” Chip croons into the cupboards, soapy hands shaking at the sky as he hip checks Keith's attempt at a hug. “What light from yon spaceship breaks-”

“Bye now!” Keith cuts across him, cheeks steaming and grin manic as he launches himself back at his dad for one last hug. “Love you all mostly, see you soon-”

He hooks an elbow around Shiro's and tugs him out the door, letting the screen bang shut behind them in the wake of raucous laughter and hollered goodbyes.

Shiro let's himself be dragged away, admiring the sight of his boyfriend's adorable pout in the lengthening desert shadows. He catches the helmet Keith tosses to him, dutifully strapping it on before sliding up onto the bike and wrapping his arms around Keith's waist.

“So that was fun,” he rumbles against Keith's back, letting his fingers dip into the crease of his hips. “They seem nice.”

“They're not,” Keith grumbles, pout still clear in his voice. “I'm gonna get so much shit later.”

“From two guys named Chip and Dale?” Shiro asks, then hesitates and adds, “Are those their real names?”

“Nah. Near as I could get from Dad there was something about a truly unfortunate lap dance before they were together and I guess it stuck.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” Keith huffs, revving up the bike as he throws a wave back toward the house. “I guess 'squirt' and 'kid' don't seem so bad in hindsight.”

“What about Spitfire?” Shiro teases, hooking his chin over Keith's shoulder. “Firecracker?”

“Don't push your luck.”

Shiro's response is lost to the wind and roar of the engine as Keith guns it, streaking through the desert and back to the confines of the Garrison. They might not have any leftovers, and the chili might not have been the usual painful level of spicy - but something in Keith still burns in satisfaction at the outcome of the day.

Somehow Shiro's arms feel more secure around him than ever before.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few weeks are a blur of Keith's classwork and updates on meetings and increasingly bizarre training methods meant to prepare Shiro and the Holts for the rigors of space. According to Matt it's more likely to prepare them for a really terrible roller coaster after the worst lunch of their life, but Shiro seems to be handling the demands with all the grace that can be expected of him. Last week had been something to do with a pool and keeping them underwater in pressurized suits as some sort of space walk simulation, which Matt had colorfully described to Keith over lunch as a 'soggy diaper in a gimp suit simulator' while Shiro mentioned it was 'a bit dull.'

Needless to say he's getting full coverage of the events that he'll hopefully someday be participating in himself.

The only real drawback is the sheer amount of time these things take up, leaving them both dragging when they are finally allowed to crawl back to their dorms. Keith's probably seen his own boyfriend maybe an hour here or there for the entire week – and maybe half a stolen lunch with Matt if he's lucky.

It's not like he can complain, not really... but it is a bit of a wake up call for the utter lack of other friends he's managed to accumulate during his time here, something that doesn't bode well for his sanity over the duration of a trip to the outer reaches of the solar system. And he hasn't exactly gone out of his way to find them, not after Shiro swaggered into his life and made everyone else look like yesterday's meatloaf... but it would probably be nice to have someone else to talk to that isn't his dad for the next year and a half.

Still, it's not like he's going to use up his precious free time with anyone other than Shiro right now if the man himself is available... but the fact of the matter is that as much as Shiro scrambles to be around every scrap of time he can claw out, it's more often that they fall into bed together to cuddle and then he's sneaking out before dawn for more mission critical bullshit, leaving Keith to wake up to a sticky note full of hearts and a cooling bed.

It's a bit lonely already if he's willing to be honest with himself... and Shiro would probably be pleased if he caught Keith attempting to socialize with his peers. Not to mention he's going to lose both his study partners at the same time, right before the year-end exams that determine who gets fast tracked into the officer program.

So he makes an effort, for once. Maybe not the _best_ effort... but he thinks Shiro would be proud of him all the same if he caught sight of Keith scoping out the cadet study lounge looking for people who aren't actively glaring at him. There's quite a few who are, but that's neither here nor there, and certainly doesn't bother him one ounce – not when most of them are barely clinging on to their place in the cargo standings anyway.

No... what he needs is someone who isn't an idiot... someone like...

“Griffin.” Keith grunts as he tosses his bag onto the table currently occupied by the guy he's punched in the face more than once. The startled flinch alone is worth the light denting to his pride from approaching in the first place. “ _You're_ not an idiot.”

“Uh...” Griffin blinks at him warily, then squints, twisting to look around like he's trying to figure out if there are enough witnesses to keep Keith from attacking him – as if he didn't start all their shit himself. “Thanks?”

“You're welcome.” Keith drops into the chair diagonal from his second least favorite person and pulls out a notebook. “I have a proposition for you.”

Griffin balks immediately, leaning back in his chair with his arms raised in front of him. “Look whatever you and Shirogane are doing – I'm not into that, I mean... I'm flattered but-”

The snorting scoff that erupts from Keith cuts him off.

“Not that kind of proposition, Griffin... I'm not keen on sharing.”

“Oh uh...okay.” He squints again, back to wary, though noticeably flustered now, much to Keith's amusement. “What do you want then?”

“You're smart and not shit in the sim,” Keith offers like an olive branch, fingers splayed on the table and head tilted in concession as Griffin's jaw drops in shock at the compliment. “I'm gonna want someone to study with for the fast-track program.”

“W-what?” The poor kid looks like he's been punched... more recently than he actually has been anyway. “You want me to study with you... after all that we've-”

“Kid shit.” Keith waves a hand, like he can flap away the years of hostility as easily as a bad smell. “We've both been assholes... I'm over it if you are.”

“I... why now?”

Keith sighs, slouching back in his chair and dropping his ever-present poker face. “Look Griffin, my two best friends are launching into space and I need to be wearing greys by the time they come back... you and I are the most likely people to get into this program. You're better at the book shit and I'm better in the sims.” He hesitates, chewing on his lip before continuing with a little shrug, like it doesn't matter either way. “I figure if I'm gonna be working with anyone long-term I'd rather work with an asshole than an idiot... right?”

“I guess so...” Griffin's face screws up in a mess of skepticism and uncertainty, like he thinks Keith is fucking with him when, for the very first time in his life, he's actually trying to be friendly. Figures. “I kinda already study with a few people though...”

“You do?” Keith doesn't mean for the words to come out so shocked, immediately cringing when Griffin bristles and goes back to his glaring. “I mean, I just never saw you with anybody before, that's all.”

The glare softens just a touch as Griffin's shoulders lower from their defensive hunch. “We mostly stick to the dorms... Leif and Rizavi have a pretty nice setup with an extra bed since their third dropped down to cargo class, and me and Kinkade are in a decent double.”

Keith wracks his brain to match faces to the names but comes up mostly blank – though he does recognize them all from the top ten percent of their class and his 'potential competition' list.

“So... um...” he hedges, feeling especially wrong-footed now that his target has turned into a herd. “Is that a no then?”

Griffin blinks at him, and Keith realizes all at once that this was in fact a terrible idea, and he's essentially revealed his biggest weakness to his most competent threat.

“Actually, nevermind Griffin.” He schools his face back into a mask of indifference and gathers his things back up. “Forget it-”

“Hey, wait.” Griffin reaches across the table and plants his palm flat on Keith's notebook with a look that Keith doesn't quite know how to decipher. “I'll ask them, okay? I don't think they'd mind having another brain to pick.”

“I- I mean... okay.” The shrug that Keith manages is probably the least nonchalant thing he's ever done. In fact, it's the very definition of chalant, if chalant had a definition. “If you want.”

“Yeah well...” Griffin shrugs back, almost as awkward, thankfully. “It's not a bad idea so... I guess you can call me James then. If you want.”

“Oh.” Keith blinks at him, startled. “I guess I could do that?” There's an agonizingly long second as he slides the notebook back across the table and into his bag. “Uh... thanks... James.”

Griffin's face wrinkles up like he's tasted something sour.

“Alright, Griffin works too if it's gonna sound like that,” he huffs, but he's almost smiling and that's enough for Keith to consider this foray into human communication a success.

Thank fuck – the backup plan was the big guy with the loudmouth cargo tag along...

Either way he's practically walking on air the rest of the afternoon, and apparently it shows judging by the smug ribbing Edna gives him as she slips an extra slice of pie onto his tray at lunch. But really, he can't help himself – Shiro is going to be so proud of him, he can't wait to prove how capable of normal human interaction he is.

So he doesn't. In fact, he barely has his boots off before he's burrowing into Shiro's covers with his pie and his tablet – though he does set himself a reminder to shake the crumbs out of the sheets before Shiro gets back of course – and then he's tapping away with a self satisfied wiggle.

_Talked to Griffin today._

The message sends off with a whoosh, leaving Keith free to shove a bite of crumbling crust and gooey cherries into his mouth with a pleased little hum. Sure enough, Shiro must feel the contentment radiating off him from across the base because the ping in response comes far sooner than Keith anticipates.

_Do I need to skip the next meeting?_

Well then.

Keith wrinkles his nose at his phone and chews his bite, torn between pouting that Shiro has assumed the worst and preening that he's ready to defend him no questions asked... but he's in a good mood, so he can be charitable today.

_Only if you want to celebrate._

The little typing dots pop up almost immediately, and Keith has to wonder what the hell they're doing that Shiro can even have his phone out – he's not due back home for another two hours at least.

_Celebrate like you finally killed him, or celebrate like... you finally killed him?_

The cherry pie goes spewing out in a sputtered laugh before Keith can slap a hand over his mouth, and once again he's infinitely grateful for Shiro's dark sheets – even if they don't hide other stains very well. But really, he should have expected the skepticism, the last time Griffin's name came out of Keith's mouth Shiro had been holding him by the collar and dragging him down the hallway for a little creative stress relief.

_O ye of little faith._

Keith taps back, shaking his head with a grin before turning the camera on himself to snap a smiling picture.

_See? No bruises, no fighting._

Shiro sends back the underside of his jaw and nose, and juuuust enough of his eyebrow for Keith to know it's raised at him.

_...That just means you won._

_Only psychologically... I have a new study buddy._

He doesn't get an immediate response to that one, and eventually turns back to his pie with a pout.

“Figured he'd at least have something to say about it,” he grumbles to Mr. Snugglesworth, who obviously agrees with him from the nightstand.

But it's fine. Shiro's probably busy doing officer things and not ignoring him. Probably. He didn't do anything wrong after all, he can have friends... in fact, Shiro's been the one suggesting it so there's no reason he can't go make new ones... not that Griffin is his friend, or will ever be his friend.

But he could be, if Keith wanted him to be.

Probably.

He's worked himself into a bit of a sulk by the time Shiro finally does respond, and like a mature adult he... ignores it. After all, he had to wait for a response, it's only fair.

This strategy works for all of forty-five seconds before he's diving for his tablet, pulling up the chat to see a full on picture of Shiro's beautiful face – a balm for all wounds.

_Sorry baby, I got caught... that's great that you two are getting along, I'm proud of you :)_

And there they are, the warm fuzzy feelings Keith was counting on to carry him through the rest of this orbital physics assignment – just in time to keep him from giving up and snuggling in bed to be a grouchy lump until he dies. They're enough to keep Keith productive all the way until Shiro drags his weary meat suit through the door, grimacing as he rubs at his wrist but otherwise looking like a disheveled dream.

“Hey handsome, rough day?” Keith asks, sliding out of bed to wrap an arm around Shiro's waist and a hand around his wrist, kneading his thumb into the tight muscles there the way he know Shiro loves.

“The longest,” Shiro sighs, melting into the attention as he toes his boots off, “they were talking about ice again... I'm so sick of talking about ice.”

“Good thing you're going on the ice mission,” Keith reminds him cheerfully as he guides him to the bed. “I'm sure there won't be any ice talk there.”

“Punk.” It's a halfhearted groan as Shiro flops backward, dragging Keith with him to settle the man onto his chest so he can press a kiss onto his nose. “What's this about Griffin then?”

“Pragmatism?” Keith shrugs as best he can while sprawled across his boyfriend. “I'm gonna need a study partner with you and Matt gone if I want to get into the fast-track program.”

“Ah,” Shiro nods thoughtfully into his hair, like he hadn't considered that Keith might not be doing this for entirely altruistic purposes like his Golden Boy ass would be. “That makes more sense. You caught me off guard there... I dropped my phone right onto the floor and got caught.”

“Hah! Sorry to blow your cover Lieutenant.” Keith grins into Shiro's chest, even more pleased with himself now. “But I've gotta stay at the top of my game if I'm gonna make you my copilot.”

“I'm sure you will,” Shiro answers him, so earnest and fond that it makes Keith squirm under the warm praise. “I can't wait to spend all my best years traveling the stars with you.”

“And maybe Matt,” Keith grunts, snuggling a cheek into those plush pecs so he can turn to smile at his boyfriend. “We wouldn't want him to get lonely... maybe we can find him an alien?”

“They'd need tentacles or fur for sure.” Shiro shudders, nose wrinkling as he shares a haunted look. “I've seen more of his porn tastes than one person should ever be burdened with.”

“Heh... noted.” Keith drums his fingers on Shiro's abdomen, letting them graze the hint of undershirt peeking through above his belt. “Speaking of... since I've been such a good boy, don't you think I deserve a reward?” He feels Shiro's breath hitch under his fingertips and grins like the cat that caught the canary. “How about we practice a little videography ourselves and you can give me something savory to go with my cherry pie?”

“ _God,_ ” Shiro groans, throwing one arm over his eyes with a huff of laughter even as the other clamps tight around Keith's waist. “That was terrible... but I guess you have been awfully good today...”

Keith barely gets a flash of a grin in warning before Shiro has them flipped, hovering over him with his jacket open and looking like a dream as he snakes one hand up Keith's shirt. Heat curls low as the other snatches up his phone with a click and a flash.

“Don't worry baby, I'll make you a star.” Shiro winks, then peels his belt apart in one fluid slide, letting his weight settle across Keith's lap. “And if that doesn't work, you better hope this biology lesson sticks.”

Keith's laughing groan gets kissed off his lips as Shiro dips to claim what's his, and if this is the reward he gets for being civil, well... Griffin better get ready to have a new best friend.


End file.
